


Ripped At Every Edge

by CleoKhaleesi



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Established Relationship, Gay Sex, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Rape, Sexual Violence, Stucky - Freeform, non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleoKhaleesi/pseuds/CleoKhaleesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a fight, The Winter Soldier kidnaps Steve Rogers. Steve has no idea what's going on after being knocked out, but does Bucky remember him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripped At Every Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky is pretty dark in this and kinda talkative. This is an un-completed series. Bucky and Steve had a previous relationship back in the 1940's before Steve was injected with the Super Soldier Serum! There is a hint to their previous relationship during a scene in this. Rape/non-con warning!

Steve managed to stun him by wedging his shield into one of the plates that made up man's metal arm, quick thinking bought him that extra moment to spin himself around and become back to back with the man, before reaching behind him and grabbing the man's face, flipping him up and backwards, ultimately ripping the mask off.   


Steve watched on as the man rolled into the fall, stumbling a little as he rose slowly before turning to look directly at him.  
Steve stared back, pausing and unbelieving as he stared into those all too familiar blue eyes, breathing hard. “Bucky?”  
“Who the hell is Bucky?” The Winter Soldier turned to him raising his arm, quickly pointing the gun straight at Steve. Then, Anthony flew in behind him, kicking The Winter Soldier hard and causing him to launch away from where he was standing.  
  
Rising next to a red pick up truck, he turned his attention back to Steve.  
Steve stood there, totally shocked, unable to process the events around him as we watched Bucky stand, hesitate, then raise his gun at him again. This time, there was something else written on his face.   
If it wasn't for the sound of a rocket launcher being shot behind him, Steve wouldn't have ducked.   
The blast was loud as it blew up the car Bucky was standing next too which was mere meters from them both. The blast hit Steve with so much force he fell backwards and his head hit on the cement, hard.   
  
He blacked out.  
  
The last thing Steve saw was leaving the scene in the back of some random car.   
_Thank God_ , he thought as he was being driven away.  
He blinked, trying to get his eyes to unblur and focus. His head was so sore from where he hit it on the ground, he could feel blood trickling out of a cut that was at the back of his head. He couldn't get his brain to function, his limbs felt so heavy as he tried to wipe at the blood trickling down the back of his neck, but they felt just too heavy.   
  
There was a glint of metal in the driver's seat, red and blue lights flashing and the sound of sirens passing by that caught his attention. While totally dazed and feeling a little nauseous, he knew he was in a moving car, but as he tried to focus his eyes, squinting from where he was laying in the backseat, he realized who he is with.  
He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come to his mouth. The noises he was making were so small, so quiet that the Winter Soldier didn't even notice. Steve looked at him, his vision beginning to slowly fade.   
He was trying to find those familiar features behind that long dark hair, but his hair was covering the sides of his face, falling around his features. All he could see was the outline of his lips and tip of his nose.  
_Bucky. Please be Bucky._ _Please be James Buchanan Barnes._  
  
\-------------------------------  
  
He was being hauled out of the back seat as he woke up still dazed.   
Bucky or, the _Winter Soldier_ was pulling him to stand. His hands were bound behind his back with rope. He must’ve bound his hands while Steve was passed out. His wrists already felt raw from the cheap, scratchy rope.  
_How long was I out for? Where am I?_

__  
His knees felt weak as he stood outside of the car and waited for Buc-the Winter Soldier, to shut the door. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he could see it was night time now. He let his head fall, eyes shutting as he tried to focus on breathing and clearing his head from any panic.   
  
“Walk.” A sharp push forward between his shoulder blades, what felt like the cold metal of a gun to his back and a hand gripping his bound hands. and they were walking. Suppressing the sadness rising in his stomach at the familiar, all too familiar voice.   
“Bucky, man, it's me.” Steve’s tongue felt heavy, and his words almost slurred together.  The sound of the gun’s safety clicking off was warning enough, so Steve shut his mouth and kept walking. Bowing his head and swallowing the fear rising in his throat.   
  
They were in some junkyard looking place, maybe a car wrecker? It would explain the totalled cars, scrap metal and tyres everywhere. They were fenced in, and in the darkness he could see large 7ft tall fences lining the lot, it even looked like barbed wire across the top of the fences that ran all the way around. How did they even get in? They appeared to be in the middle of the lot and couldn't see anything else but wrecked and crushed cars everywhere. He looked right ahead, eyes still blurry and unable to properly focus. Surely his body is healing him quickly enough by now, it's been hours, hasn't it? He should be feeling better already, his strength should be returning soon.    
  
His legs were on autopilot as he took step after step. They were approaching a small looking shed which was right at the back of the lot. It was surrounded by wrecked cars, piled high. It looked cold and dark from the outside, god knows what it looked like on the inside, Steve didn't want to find out.   
“Stop.”    
He watched as the Winter Soldier walked out from behind him, holstering his gun but gripping Steve’s hands tight and turning Steve to face side on as he unlocked the bolt to the steel door. Steve listening to the sound of a key lick inside the padlock, then the door was swung open.   
  
He was pulled inside the small dark room so quickly he stumbled on his way in, accidently falling forward a little, trying to regain his balance. He couldn't see a thing, it was so dark. He could hear his feet scuffling and echo a little inside the room. The Winter Soldier pulled him back into his chest by his bound hands, catching his fall and pulling a knife to Steve’s throat.   
Steve’s adrenaline was already running through his veins, the knife to his neck made him so nervous he thought he would vomit. Not being able to see was making it so much worse.   
“Bucky, c’mon, you know me.” Steve tried, breathing quickly trying to keep up with his heartbeat which was hammering in his chest.   
He felt the man behind him tense.    
“Don’t call me that.” The knife was pushed harder into Steve’s neck. The knife’s edge felt so sharp, it actually felt like it was beginning to slice into his skin as it began to sting. Steve closed his eyes, the fear becoming almost overwhelming. If he thought he felt dizzy before, well.  “Okay.” His voice was quiet.    
The Winter Soldier pushed him off his chest, removing the knife from his throat.  As Steve opened his eyes, he took his first good look around.    
  
The room was so much smaller than it looked from outside. The Winter Soldier pulled on a sting that was hanging by the door, and a dim yellow light flickered to life on the cement beam located in the center of the room. The ground was also cement and looked damp in the corners. Meaning, it must be leaky when it rained.   
There was rope hanging up on the back wall with wire and cable ties. There appeared to be buckets in one of the corners, with an axe sitting inside one. There were tools around the buckets too, but they were all horribly rusted.    
But it was the splatters on the ground around the cement beam, dark black, dark red.  _ Stains. _ Steve knew exactly what this place was used for. It sent a violent shudder of fear and revulsion through his body. He swallowed hard as The Winter Soldier walked him towards the beam.   
The walls were made of concrete, which meant the tin on the outside of the so called shed was only for show. This is meant to be an  _ inconspicuous _ torture room.   
  
The Winter Soldier spun Steve around and pushed him hard and back against the beam. This was the first time he has faced him since the mask came off and the explosion.   
Before he could really look up at the man, he pushed Steve down so hard, the metal arm whirring as the strength of it pushed hard into Steve’s shoulder.    
Steve sat down with a sharp breath, his shirt had rode up on his back as he was forced down  against the gritty cement beam which, ended up scratching his back, leaving his skin alight with pain. His shoulders were aching from his hands being bound behind his back but then, The Winter Soldier was squatting down before him.   
Steve tried so hard to focus his eyes, which he had managed to do so.  __ Good , he thought. His body is healing fast again.

  
The Winter Soldier placed his elbows on his knees as he rested his folded hands to his lips. The only thing Steve was looking at, was his pale, ice blue eyes. He was staring at him, studying him.   
It all came crashing down. Steve was looking into the eyes of his dead best friend before him, who was alive. Who had longer hair, a metal arm, didn't remember who he was and calls himself The Winter Soldier.   
This man, his pal, his best friend, his lover, his  _ Bucky _ .

  
Steve let the tears come to his eyes as he stared into those confused, angry, damn right terrifying looking eyes.   
“B-B, Bu-” In an instant, a knife was at his throat again.   
“Dont. Say. It.” A metal hand had grabbed Steve’s hair and held his head back, exposing his neck. Steve gasped and tensed, but didn't resist as Bucky moved closer to Steve’s face.   
_ Bucky. _

  
Steve closed his mouth, letting the tears fall down his face as Bucky stood, removing the knife from his throat. His metal hand though, lingered in Steve’s hair for a moment, before he removed his hand once more.   
He stood abruptly and moved to the side of Steve and cut his bound hands from behind his back. Steve didn't move as he heard Bucky walk to the wall and grab the rope. He let his hands fall to his sides, and sat there motionless, in shock. Bucky had some long rope in his hands and was wrapping Steve up around the beam. Steve tried to pull his hands forward but only managed to pull them down to his sides once more, resting his hands on the horribly cold floor. He bowed his head, and cried silently.   
  
He felt the rope pull tighter and tighter against his stomach and chest. His breathing became constricted a little.  “Wh-why have, have you brought m-me he-here?” He breathed out, clenching his hands as he tried to regain some blood flow back to his fingers.   
Nothing.    
Bucky just kept wrapping the rope around Steve, pulling tight.   
“W-where am I?” He tried to turn his head back, trying to look back at Bucky, but he couldn't see past the beam.   
Nothing.

  
“You know me.” Steve scrunched his face as he said the words, tears falling down his face as he immediately regretted saying it.    
Bucky was in front of him again, looking down at him with his hair falling forward, shadowing his face in the dim light.   
“No I don't.” His voice was so low.   
Steve looked up at him, god, Bucky still looked like  _ Bucky _ under all of this. His lips were still the same shape, his jaw was still square, appearing even more so with the stubble.    
But it was his chin cleft that tore Steve apart, that made Bucky who he was before him, so much more realer. It really was Bucky under this other person, this assasin. Steve could feel his heart literally breaking in his ribcage.   
“Yes you do.” Steve clenched his jaw, waiting.

  
Bucky stared down at him. His brow furrowing before he slowly turned his back to him and began to walk towards the door.   
Panic started to set in Steve’s stomach. He started to finally become terrified of the situation.   
“You know me!” He felt his chest heave as he yelled after him.   
Bucky paused at the door and looked back at him. He shook his head so slowly as he stared at him. “I know you.” Bucky nodded once. A thoughtful small smile playing on his lips as he glanced away. He paused. “As my mission.” His eyes set on Steve once more, dark and unfamiliar.

  
Steve sat there, heart in his throat as the fear, adrenaline and total chaotic sadness filled his stomach. He watched Bucky walk out the door slowly, then pause once more to give him a last glance, before shutting the steel door with a loud slam.   
Steve listened to Bucky padlock the door and heard the gravel grind as he walked away, leaving Steve alone in this small, cold, dark and eerie room.    
He stopped crying, at least.  
  


\-------------------------------

  
From what it felt like, it must've been a couple of hours since Bucky left him.  He sat there, bound to the wall on the cold, hard and eerily stained floor. His back ached so much, and his legs had become a little numb. He wriggled his feet a little a few times just to keep the pins and needles at bay.   
But the adrenaline did not seem to cease. His body was healing quickly enough now though, his vision had become fully clear now. But his mind wasn't any less clear. He was scared, undeniably. He wasn't scared of where he was, or if he could escape. He knew he could try, and he will try once he regains his strength.

  
The fear lied with who Bucky was right now. What he’s going to do, and why. Not knowing who he was anymore, not knowing what he wanted from him. Why he’s suddenly  _ alive, _ why he has a metal arm. Is it a shield that sits upon his arm underneath? He couldn't think about it for too long, his mind was racing with so many thoughts.. He couldn't believe his best friend, who, what Steve believed had died over 70 years ago and was now in the same reality as him.    
Steve rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to clear his thoughts. His crying had definitely stopped, among the emotions he was feeling, absolute shock rocked his body the most, fear the second, utter sadness the third. His own well being sat at fourth place. 

It was so quiet in the room. He could hear the wind blowing outside every now and again.  As soon as he is able, he will try a break for it. Until then, he has to come up with a way to distract Bucky long enough.  
One more hour passed, from what Steve could assume. His eyes were beginning to grow so heavy. His body was suddenly craving sleep. His head began to feel heavy on his shoulders as he found himself prying his eyes open, trying to stay awake.  
Just as he felt himself drift off, eyes closed, unable to hold them open any longer, the sound of approaching footsteps were heard from outside. Steve’s eyes fluttered open just as the door was opening. In _he_ walked.  
Steve blinked up at him as he shut the door behind him, still in the black combat clothing he had on from earlier today. Except, while he never saw Bucky bruised after the events that took place, it was evident right now that Bucky has some serious bruises on his face. One eye even looked a little blood shot. How did this happen? Maybe Steve just wasn't remembering the last few hours correctly?  
  
Bucky approached him, looking directly at Steve on the ground and standing before him.   
Steve swallowed, looking straight up at him. Neither of them said anything, as a few moments passed. Steve could feel his body prickle with goosebumps as the fear crept its way back up into his skin. He saw how dark, menacing and _nearly_ unrecognizable Bucky had become.  With a small breath, Steve decided to speak. “You remember me.” If Steve had blinked, he would’ve missed what looked like a flinch.

“No I don't.” Bucky looked away a little, unmoving.   
“Then why did you bring me here?” His voice became a little urgent. “Why won't you kill me?”   
Another quite visible this time flinch. Bucky looked back at him again, this time confusion lingering on his face. “I am going to kill you.” The words sounded like a reminder to himself, rather than a threat.   
  
Steve watched him turn even darker under the dim yellow light, the darkness reached his eyes. It scared him, so much more.   
“But, you’re Bucky. And I’m Steve, you don't know wha-” A metal hand was at his throat, and he was suddenly at the same level as Steve.   
“If you say that name again, I’ll kill you right now.” His face was so close, and Steve could see into those dark and familiar eyes, a glimmer of something else, before it vanished. “You don’t scare me.” He lied.   
“Is that what you think I’m trying to do?” The grip on his throat tightened, metal fingers digging harshly into Steve’s aching neck. “ I'm not trying to scare you, you’re just an object to me. Whether you fear me or not, isn't my concern.”    
Steve set his jaw. 

  
The grip on Steve’s neck loosened a bit, as Bucky lingered in front of him.   
“May 1942.” Steve tried to keep his voice level, it faltered a little but he kept his face blank.   
Bucky frowned, staring at Steve’s eyes.   
Before Bucky could move, Steve moved one hand so slowly onto Bucky’s leg, it was an awkward position but he managed to gingerly lay it on the side of his kneeling thigh. His fingers were shaking so much as he felt the material of Bucky’s pants under his fingertips.   
  
“May.” He said once more. “1942. Do you remember?” Steve froze as he watched Bucky’s face fall, his face scrunching up as he looked away, not moving Steve’s hand away or removing his metal hand around his neck.   
“You came home, after being out with some girl.” Steve began, as Bucky stilled. His breathing became alittle more rapid, his face constantly twitching in confusion.   
“You came to our bed. You remember our bed? We shared it because it’s all we could afford, and I was too skinny to keep myself warm.” Steve’s eyes began to water, but he felt himself choke back the feeling of wanting to cry.    
Bucky was motionless.   
“You got in beside me, I was so cold. Your skin was so warm against mine.” Steve’s fingers ran up Bucky’s thigh a fraction, the rope wrapped around his shoulders not aiding his movement.   
“Do you remember what happened?” Steve watched Bucky grimace, he shook his head a little. His metal hand was so light around Steve’s neck, he figured Bucky had forgotten he was even touching him.

  
“I dont-I dont know who you are.” Bucky turned to him, the darkness had returned to his features once more.  “I don't know what you’re talking about.” His voice was deep, hoarse. Suddenly, he tightened his grip on Steve’s throat. He pulled out a knife from a holster to bring it to Steve’s neck.   
He felt the sharp edge touch his skin. He stilled.   
“You only tense when I pull out my knife.” Bucky observed. “Let's see how you react with something else.”   
Steve watched as Bucky removed the knife from his neck, never breaking eye contact as he holstered it, and pulled out his handgun instead, slowly bringing it to the underside of Steve’s chin. The coldness of the gun’s barrel did not amount to the ice in Bucky’s eyes.

  
Bucky let out a small satisfied noise, but his face remained blank. “You almost shake.”   
“It's not the gun that scares me.” Steve said.   
“I don't care if you fear me.” Bucky pressed it harder under his chin, tilting Steve’s head up and back. “Want to know something?” Bucky came so close to Steve’s lips, he almost whispered the words. Steve felt his breath on his face as he looked at Bucky now kneeling over him, gun still placed under his chin. “I was told not to kill you.” He paused. “My mission is to break you.” He said the words with venom. “So whether you fear me or not, you’ll fear what I do to you. And once I am done, you’ll have nothing else but  _ fear alone _ .”  

  
Bang!   
The shot was fired just to the side of the wall near Steve’s head.   
The sound was so loud, it caused Steve’s ears to physically hurt. He felt the dust and small parts of debris fall onto his shoulder from the bullet going into the cement wall. He tried to turn away from the shot but the rope held him in place, his adrenaline was on overdrive.

Bang!   
Another shot, this time between Steve’s legs. Steve pulled him up to his chest, pushing himself up against the wall.    
Before he could even react to the quick time events unfolding before him, he watched as Bucky took two steps away from him and raise his gun directly at Steve’s face.   
“Now, I am curious. What do you fear now? The gun,” He focussed his eyes on the gun held out before him, looking over it quickly before raising his eyes back to Steve. “Or me?”    
Steve breathed in slowly, trying to remain calm. “I don’t fear the gun.” He swallowed, voice shaky.   
“I don't fear you. Not the real you.” Steve hesitated, trying to think of a way not to say his name. “I am afraid of the Winter Soldier.” 

  
Bucky watched him, Steve could see him processing what he said. Then, another loud shot rocked the room. This time, right above Steve’s head. Steve naturally ducked, the fear rolling around inside his stomach making him feel nauseous. The ringing in his ears was so loud he didn't hear Bucky approaching him once more.   
“Good.” His hands were free now, he must’ve holstered his gun because a furious, hard punch landed on the side of Steve’s cheek. Then another, and another.   
Steve felt himself bite his cheek, the blood began to pool in his mouth. Suddenly he felt a hard metal fist colliding with his face, Bucky had swapped hands. 

Hit after hit, he felt himself becoming dazed and disorientated. The power change from Bucky’s real hand to his metal hand was so different, Steve’s body felt like it was beginning to go into shock.   
The pain was engulfing his face, all he could hear was a dull ringing, the sound of Bucky’s arm whirring and the occasional huff of breath. He didn't even know he had tried to speak until Bucky had hesitated before hitting him again.   
“S, st-stop.” Steve felt the blood dripping out of his mouth, he tried to look up at Bucky, but realised one of his eyes was already beginning to swell shut. His face stung so much, he couldn't even feel his lips. “Please.” He didn't even feel his own tongue move when he said it.  
  
Bucky pulled out his knife, and began to slice Steve’s shirt off from underneath the rope, the knife’s point connected with Steve’s skin as he cut, causing a 4 inch cut into his flesh before ripping the neck down the middle with his fingers. He yanked Steve’s shirt off so hard that it burned his chest as the rope and shirt rubbed together. He didn't move as he felt Bucky tear off his clothes, it was happening so fast. Before he knew it, he was completely bare waist up. He was suddenly aware of just how scratchy and irritating the rope really was, it’s loose strands sticking into his skin felt like little needles all around his chest.   
He left his hands to his sides, the thought of moving them right now, just wasn't an option. He felt so tired, in so much pain, he couldn't even think straight let alone move.   
Bucky was removing Steve’s pants when he finally made another noise.

  
A hard, unforgiving punch landed on his jaw. An audible pop was heard, then searing hot pain flared up in his teeth and temple. That hit did some serious damage, Steve managed to think.   
Bucky pulled at Steve’s pants, pulling them completely off with his shoes and socks, leaving only his underwear on.   
“Th-his isnt-h,-you.” Steve slurred, letting his head fall, closing his eyes as he felt Bucky’s hands rest on his bare thighs. He was squatting over him again, knife put away.   
He was having trouble breathing, the panic and fear was beginning to overwhelm him. The blood in his mouth was making him feel even more nauseous than he already felt. The pain all over his face was making him drowsy, but he was so scared to let himself drift into the blackness that wanted to take over his mind. He felt his body want to rest, he wanted to tell Bucky to stop, to beg him to stop and that he’ll forgive him and it’ll be okay.    
  
But the blood in his mouth kept pooling, and he finally spat out some blood to the side of him. His thoughts weren't making any sense anyway, because half of him was yearning, keening at the gentle feel of Bucky’s hands resting on his thighs. The other half were completely terrified.   
“It’s time I break you.” Bucky caressed Steve’s stinging cheek so lightly, it still sent his nerves alight. Then he reached back behind him and pulled out some dirty looking rope.   
He caressed the rope with his fingers, tracing it delicately before gripping Steve’s chin to bring his face forward. “Open.” His voice was gravel. His fingers were digging into his chin, so Steve opened his bloodied mouth, and was instantly hit with raw agony as whatever popped in his jaw before, popped again. He shut his mouth and let out a pained cry.   
  
Bucky’s fingers returned to his chin and gripped him even tighter. Using his metal index and middle fingers which were still holding the rope, he pried open Steve’s mouth before pushing the rope inside. Steve let out a small cry as he felt the searing hot pain flare up inside his jaw as Bucky’s fingers intruded into his mouth, tears were stinging his eyes. Bucky wound the rope around Steve head before placing another part of the same rope inside his mouth. Before long, Steve was completely gagged with more scratchy rope, holding his aching and stinging jaw open. Blood was beginning to stain the rope where his mouth was, and he could taste the dirt and plastic mixing with the blood.    
The pain wasn't subsiding, but it wasn't any worse. He could do this, whatever Bucky is going to do, he can do this. He felt tears begin to fall down his face, but remained silent as he waited for Bucky to move.   
  
Suddenly, he was standing and walking behind the wall. Steve felt himself breathe deep, his stomach unclenching in his own personal space.   
He felt the rope’s tension being released around him, he was being untied. This is his chance to make a break for it. His hands are free, this is the perfect opportunity to try and run.  
But he felt so disoriented, so weak, so tired. He could barely breathe, with the panic and the rope in his mouth.    
He felt himself shudder, scared. He could barely see out one eye, and the rope was beginning to slack around him. If he was going to make a break for it, he needed to decide now if he was going to go for it.

  
But then, Bucky was in front of him. His face unreadable under the horrible lighting. His hair was all over the place, and of all things Steve could think of, like  _ trying to escape _ , he found himself losing track of his thoughts and suddenly aware again of the horrible, harsh looking bruises on Bucky’s face. Steve felt his stomach drop at the sudden worry that wracked his body, he found himself wanting to know what happened and who did this to him.   
Bucky finally moved, his hands were pulling Steve up to stand. Steve flinched, feeling himself curl in on himself as he let Bucky grab at his hands and pull out a zip tie and lock his wrists together in front of him. The scratchy rope around his chest and torso fell to the floor as he stood, completely forgotten. He pulled the plastic zip tie tight around his now bound hands. Within a second, Bucky had pulled down Steve’s underwear to his ankles, leaving him standing completely naked.   
  
Steve stood there. He just stood there. He wanted to cover himself, he wanted his feet to work, to make a break for it. But he just stood there, looking into those all too familiar eyes.   
He didn't make any noise as Bucky pushed him back against the cold cement wall. His real hand holding him firmly in place on his chest.    
Bucky looked at him all over, his expression unreadable. Bucky’s eyes lingered at a small freckle by Steve’s collar bone. Steve knew what he was looking at, because he followed his eye line and looked down at it too.    
The sudden heartbreaking sorrow that Steve felt at the realization that Bucky was tracing his real finger softly, almost fondly over it hit him like a punch to the gut.    
_ Did Bucky remember? _

Steve was abruptly flipped and facing the wall, his face being pushed hard into the gritty texture.    
Steve closed his eyes as he heard Bucky unzip his pants. He stilled, waited, he knew what was coming. He has never wanted to get away from Bucky so much in all his life.   
  
He heard Bucky spit onto his hand, before his cock was at Steve’s entrance. Steve held his breath, his mind was spinning, his legs were so unsteady he didn't know how he was even standing. Bucky kicked at Steve’s feet, moving them over and spreading his legs even more.

  
Then, he was pushing inside him. One long, slow thrust. Steve felt Bucky fill him, and  _ god _ , was it familiar. He almost wanted to push back onto him. He shuddered and let out a shaky breath, he wanted to feel his cock hit that spot deep inside of him.   
But that thought was quickly thrown away when Bucky began to move, violently. Steve let out a harrowing cry, pulling himself onto the horrible cold wall in an attempt to get away.   
Bucky moved inside him fast and hard. He was slapping against him, grunting and hot. He gripped Steve’s hip tightly with one hand, and held the back of his neck tightly. Steve’s echoing, muffled cries filled the room.   
Bucky pumped into him, the entire length of his cock disappearing inside of him. He felt every inch of him, and he wanted to scream. He felt like he was ripping him open, he thinks he might be bleeding. Bucky groaned, a delicate breath followed with a small grunt. Steve let out a small sob. He knew that groan, he knew it all too well. It sent a shiver up his spine. He knew Bucky was getting close. It was always the best feeling, the best scene, watching as Bucky came. The way his bottom lip would disappear behind his teeth, his eyes, lazy and hazed. His small voice, breathing hard.   
  
These memories flashed in Steve’s mind as he tried to be quiet. He cried harder and bit down on the rope in his mouth, knowing full well his own cock was standing at full attention.    
He became fully aware he was bleeding when he felt a small trickle of blood fall down to his balls. 

He let out a small cry as Bucky fucked unbelievably harder into him, the blood coating the sting of his hole now. He was sliding so smoothly inside of Steve, and Steve was fighting himself, fighting against the pleasure that was building inside. He tried to focus on the pain, the horrific pain in his jaw, his face, his hole, anything. He felt so ashamed, so torn down, so utterly mortified at himself for letting his body react to this.

  
He just wanted it to be Bucky, and it was. But he couldn't. He wouldn't let himself be overcome by this, so he glanced over his shoulder hoping to see the horrible person he  _ wanted _ to see behind him.   
_ Bucky _ . It was Bucky fucking him, fucking him with his eyes locked onto Steve’s. His hair, sweaty and falling around his face. His brow furrowed, his bottom lip between his teeth. Steve let out a loud moan, blinked to let out some tears and pushed back onto Bucky’s cock as he came. He felt Bucky’s cock drill into him, pulsating deep inside. Bucky fell forward, leaning on Steve’s back as he groaned into his skin. Steve’s own cock twitching between his legs. 

Bucky was pulling out of him as quickly as he came, putting himself back in his pants before spinning Steve to face him again. Steve’s legs buckled and he fell backwards, hitting the wall harshly, scratching his back.  Bucky stared at him for a moment breathing hard still, watching Steve cry and regain his balance against the wall. Bucky tucked one side of his hair behind his ear, hesitated, then pushed Steve’s shoulders down hard.   Steve felt his legs give away too easily, and he fell hard onto the ground. His hole was leaking blood and come, and felt so fucking sore. He sat, and let out a small cry as pain shot up his spine. He bowed his head, cock still hard. He felt shame and guilt wash over him.

  
Suddenly, the rope was around his chest again. It was pulling him against the wall, his breathing restricted once more.   
He sat there, hands in his lap, still bound by the zip tie. He was still naked, his hole was throbbing. His jaw was in agony, the rope in his mouth causing serious dryness to his lips. His eye was now almost completely swollen shut and he felt even more dazed than ever, and he was cold. He felt so cold.

  
Bucky was standing in front of him once more. He looked down at him, that darkness was back in his features. He was sweating, breathing hard.   
Steve glared at him, tears falling down his face as he cried, not caring if he made any sound at this point.   
Bucky’s expression faltered. “That was my favourite freckle.”    
He was walking away, he opened the door and was out of the room so fast.    
Steve watched in total shock as Bucky left him. The words replaying in his mind over and over and over again. He cried, he cried hard. The tears falling so fast down his cheeks, the rope becoming saturated. His jaw stinging as he cried, his voice hoarse as he sobbed.

  
_ That was my favourite freckle. _   
  



End file.
